Witch Hunt

Once, in a town that had mostly been forgotten by civilization, there were two young twins. The boy and girl shared beautiful golden hair, as well as blue eyes that shone like the moon off of the ocean. The two lived alone in a small cottage at the edge of town. Most people outside of that town wouldn't bother with them. They were illiterate, because they had never set foot into a school. They were annoying, arrogant, and had no responsibilities. That's what most people thought. Although it was true they had never been to school, they were not by any means illiterate or annoying. In fact, they had a talent that was known around the town. They were known for their amazing storytelling. When the twins told stories, the story seemed to come alive around whoever was listening.
Every day at exactly three o'clock in the afternoon, they would sit on one of the benches in front of the church in the center of the town. They would wait for the schoolchildren to walk along, eyes bright with excitement, to ask them for another amazing story. Sure enough, seven or eight kids, ages varying from about eight to twelve, ran up to them and asked for a story.
"Of course you may hear a story," the girl replied, "what kind of story shall it be this time?" The girl's angelic voice rang in the ears of the children, making their smiles wider, their eyes brighter. But, being children, they all screamed out what they wanted at once. A little boy with brown hair wanted action, a girl his same height, most likely his sister, wanted a love story. One of the older girls wanted a sad story. A few younger boys and girls argued over what kind they would have. The twins looked at each other, and nodded. They could always almost tell what the other was thinking.
"We have a solution for you." the boy said looking at the screaming kids, making them immediately sit on the ground an look up, waiting excitedly.  "We have a story for all of you. One with sadness, love, and tragedy, but also with lots of action and jealousy. This is a story that nobody will forget. Do you agree, sister?" the boy looked at his sister. And as she nodded, they began to spin their magnificent tale.




Come, and listen to this sad story. Do not forget to prepare a handkerchief, dear friends. Once upon a time, it seems that there was a witch, who only used her powers for good. It seems that she fell in love with the handsome prince of that land. It also seemed that there was a jealous priestess, who also had fallen under the prices spell. The priestess saw the witch and prince together, and plotted her revenge on the witch for stealing away the one she loved.
The land where this happened, it was a sweet little fishing village. Nothing went wrong. Except, though, for the witches. In this town, witches of both good and evil were burned at the stake for their 'treasons.' The witch, with her long shining pink hair, had been attracted to the village from the fish she had desired. The price, which was actually running from his blue haired bishop who had been trying to cut his magnificent purple hair, ran directly into the witch. He helped her up, and asked for her name. The priestess with long green hair that shone like spring, the priestess whom everyone else loved, had also been running after him, and was enraged when he stopped for another girl.
They immediately fell in love, the prince and the witch. It was a forbidden love, but a strong one. The priestess ran to the church, and after crossing herself, knelt down in front of the altar. She lifted her golden cross pendant up to her forehead, and prayed. She did not pray for the safety of the prince, but for the demise of the witch. And her prayer was answered.
Come and take a look at the burning sky, come and see how everything is different. It seems that the priestess tricked the prince, into believing his beloved was evil. And it seems that the price took action. The witch looks up at the sky, saddened and worried for those she loves. She sings to herself quietly, and prays for the ugly voices of evil prayer to stop. She prays that the prince would not forget the reason for his bitter tears. The priestess, a holy bible in one hand, and a staff in the other, points at the witch and cries out evil prayer.
"Before shouting out its evil spell," she says, "we must light the sacred flames of burning justice! This creature does not deserve to live!" Her hair, along with the princes, is blown back with a great light, as the witch shows her true form. Wings black as midnight sprout from her back, and her eyes become lighter. She is not a witch, but an angel. The prince and priestess realize their fatal mistake. But it is too late- they have already set the cross that she is tied to on fire. She is already suffering the fate that nobody, witch or angel, should ever have to. She cries out once, and disappears- leaving a smoking cross and a single black feather.




The two blonde twins look down at the crying children. Their story had definitely had an impact. The children thank them, and run home, eager for supper. The twins stay there a bit longer, until they can just barely see the sun over the horizon. The two stand to walk back. But instead of walking straight home, they take another path that will lead them to a sight that almost nobody knew about. They walked until a tall, wooden, charred cross was in sight. At the bottom of the cross was a memorial plate- with a message engraved on it. It said:
'Witch or Angel, love is best when tragic.
In memorial of the Pink Angel.'